


Chance Meetings

by ughdotcom



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 17:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ughdotcom/pseuds/ughdotcom
Summary: Virgil meets the most beautiful boy he's ever seen
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Chance Meetings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Lavender_Creator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lavender_Creator/gifts).



> Fic exchange with The_Lavender_Creator

The bar was dark, but Virgil was used to dark bars. God forbid The Dark Sides play somewhere lit. He stayed almost backstage, as close to the door as he could be without drawing attention to himself.

Janus, Remus, and Remy, on the contrary, were all mingling. Janus was over by the bar, drinking something sickly yellow while watching Remus goof around with shots. Remy was chatting up some boy with bright pink hair that gleamed over the low light.

He was used to watching this while he waited for their turn to go on stage. The other Dark Sides weren’t exactly as antisocial as he was, there was a reason he was called “Anxiety”.

There were still a couple bands playing before them, they had unfortunately arrived early. The one that had been playing the bad pop finally ended, and Virgil sighed in relief. He could stand pop but it had been off tune and badly written.

A few people clapped for them. Virgil rolled his eyes as the next band was introduced. “The Sides”. What a shitty and unimaginative name. It didn’t have any _meaning_ or theme. He warily turned his eyes to the stage as they paraded on, like it was a concert and not a bar where alcohol was overpriced and half the women were hookers.

The lead singer had brilliant red hair, and was dressed in a red dress with golden hearts. Well, at least he had fashion sense. The drums were manned by a boy with hot pink hair and glasses, the same one that Remy had been hitting on. The guitarist had curly pastel blue hair and white skinny jeans under a blue graphic tee and white leather jacket.

It was the bassist that caught Virgil’s eye, however. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were lit up and hidden behind square frame glasses. His hair was kinky and midnight blue, and blue glitter shimmered on his dark cheekbones and eyelids. His lips were painted matte black, and he wore a black sleeveless button up with a long starry blue skirt.

Virgil was in love with him instantly. And then the band started playing.

Despite the bad name, they were amazing, and Virgil was in love with music. It was too pop punk leaning indie for it to be something Virgil would seek out, but it all blended together into a perfect song.

The bassist’s hands moved deftly over the strings, plucking out chords and keeping beat with the drummer perfectly. He smiled slightly, small enough that Virgil thought it could be a trick of the light. He glanced over to his fellow bandmates, and his eyes were full of happiness and love.

Virgil looked over to his own bandmates, and realized that he probably had the same look in his eyes as he looked at Janus and Remus dance clumsily, laughing in pure glee as Remy egged them on.

Virgil smiled and looked back up to the bassist, who was indulging the lead and dancing with him, and Virgil knew the look on his face because it had been on his own enough time, where he was enjoying goofing off on stage and dancing, but he wasn’t going to show it.

The band continued to play, and when it was done, the bassist looked over to Virgil and winked, making the pale boy flush a bright pink. When The Sides poured off stage, the door Virgil was leaning by swung open. The singer, the drummer, and the guitarist melted into the bar, getting drinks and talking and dancing. But the bassist leaned next to Virgil.

“Nice guitar.” he said. “When do you go on?”

“After them.” Virgil answered, trying not to stumble over his words or appear too incompetent. He jerked his head to the stage, and the bassist nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Virgil. You?”

“Logan. So, you liked our performance? I saw you looking.” he smirked, and Virgil tried and failed to not turn bright red.

“You’re very good.”

“We try.”

“I really like your hair.” Virgil said, and Logan ran a hand through it.

“Thank you. Your hair looks nice. Purple flatters your eyes.”

Virgil wished he could run up to Remy and ask him if Logan was flirting. This had to be flirting right?

“Thanks. You’re very good at bass.”

“I’ve practiced a lot. Are you good at guitar?”

“I like to think so.” Virgil ran his hand along the curve of his purple guitar. He had been playing almost his whole life. He knew he was good, but he didn’t know if it would be rude to say so. Would it sound narcissistic, or cocky? Would Logan think he was taunting The Sides’ guitarist?

Incidentally, that was when Remus grabbed at Virgil’s arm to tug him backstage before they performed. Virgil tuned his guitar, and tried not to panic over the fact he knew that Logan would be watching.

But as Virgil stepped onto the small stage that smell of cheap beer and sweat, he transformed. Despite the eyes on him and the fact that messing up could have consequences, he was in his element, with his guitar and at a microphone, Remus behind him on the drums, Jenus to his left with his bass, and Remy backstage working on any background music they needed.

Virgil made eye contact with Logan, and in a move that surprised himself, he winked as he started to sing.

The stage lights were hot, no one was really paying attention, and Remus was improvising more than normal. Virgil felt his eyeliner run, felt his hair become damp, felt his callouses hit the guitar strings. It was blissfully uncomfortable, intolerably perfect.

When they finished, in what felt to Virgil like both an hour and a second, he pushed his purple bangs out of his face and smiled. He then got off stage as quickly as he could, looking down at Logan.

When Virgil came out of the door, using Janus’ jacket to wipe the sweat off his head, Logan was gone. In his place was a note stuck into the soft wall with two purple, low quality but pretty, earrings. 

A number was scrawled in neat handwriting on the small slip of paper, torn out of a college lined notebook.

 _Call me_ . It read. _And you can keep the earrings, I got them for my sister but they’ll look better on you._

Virgil smiled, taking out his phone and inputting the number.

“Coming, Virg?” Janus asked, and Virgil glanced up at him.

“Yeah, one second.” Virgil grabbed the note and earrings, putting them into his pocket and following them out of the bar, taking his own silver studs out of his ears.

Unknown Number: Hey, this is Logan, right? Virgil, from the bar

Logan: Yes, this is Logan. I’m very glad you texted me.


End file.
